@ethanxxparkinson
With all the snow and all the wildness, the Sweetwater's become a bit of a base of operations - what's normally a dingy hunter hideaway has become a sort of mutual staging ground. There's a conspiratorial sort of air that hovers inside of it. "You guys hear somebody whacked Fortney? Shot him, square in the head."
A few blocks away, in the diner, Aelita's expression's pulled into one of disgust - mostly because the stink is making her want to gag.
A heavy-set, flame-haired man lays dead and bloated. A few feet away, a known werewolf sits slumped against a counter, also dead. A gun lies between them.
She looks to the other hunter - a Fellowship man. The snow and the disappearances and all the wild shit has them working together for once.
"No video in the office," she says, and the equipment's all fucked from a fire-axe. "Old-man over there on the floor didn't like digital footprints I guess."
She looks between the two bodies. "You think it's as easy as they killed eachother?"
